


Five times Aziraphale heard Crowley sing

by SeekingSelkies



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale still owns a bookshop, But the very lightest of angst, Crowley is in a band, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Genderswap, Human AU, I hate to see my girls suffer, Is it genderswapping if they're genderless beings?????, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 20:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17710724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeekingSelkies/pseuds/SeekingSelkies
Summary: (And one time Aziraphale sang to Crowley)Crowley and Aziraphale are human, Crowley is a singer, Aziraphale has a bookshop, Hastur and Ligur have a Queen tribute band. God is a teacher and he runs a Christian school (but of course he does)





	1. Prologue: Arsonist's Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> In my head Crowley is Stephanie Beatriz. It's been many years since I started this fic but my love for Stephanie Beatriz is undying.
> 
> No beta, we post our fics after a double gin and tonic like men. Although this is about three years old, so Crowley and Aziraphale are a little different to how I imagine them now

Every other year, Aziraphale adored the scent of Autumn. The faint smell of bonfires was one of her favourite parts of the season.  
  
It was different up close. Plastic doesn’t burn prettily like wood, and the scent seared Aziraphale’s nostrils, doing nothing to help the tears that already trailed down her cheeks at the sight of the charred walls of the science wing. She heard a low whistle beside her, and turned to see Crowley, even further above Aziraphale than she usually was,1 in improbable heels, holding an unlit cigarette between her lips and a lighter in her left hand.  
  
‘Well, fuck’ in the mid-morning light her eyes looked less like their usual topaz and more like cheap orange juice (2) as she scanned the jagged edges of the school windows, shattered in the fire. Aziraphale shot her an accusatory look.  
  
‘What are you doing here? You’re not allowed here anymore.’  
‘I was curious’ Crowley shrugged, lighting the cigarette with slightly trembling fingers and inhaling deeply (3).  
‘How can you hold a lighter at a time like this? It’s so insensitive!’ Aziraphale hissed  
‘Why not? Not my fault’ she replied lightly, receiving a light smack on the arm in response.  
‘It is your fault. Gabriel heard you daring Adam and Steve to sneak into the school last night’  
‘One, I was drunk.  
Two, if the school didn’t want them to do something stupid, they shouldn’t have suspended them in the first place, it’s the 21st century for fuck’s sake, nobody should be booted out for making out in a corridor.  
Three, I dared them to sneak in and kidnap the corn snake in exchange for a ransom, I most certainly didn’t say anything about burning down half the building.  
Four, they’re big boys, they didn’t have to listen to me.  
And five…’ Crowleys voice dropped to a whisper so quiet Aziraphale had to stand on tiptoes to hear her ‘Who was the well-meaning prefect who let them in in the first place?’ She glanced away for a moment, and then back down at Aziraphale with one raised eyebrow in a way that made her feel even tinier than she had before.  
‘Steve swore he needed to get in to get a jumper his grandmother had knitted for him! It’s October, Crowley, it’s 2 degrees out! I thought I was doing the decent thing, I didn’t think he was going to burn down the school’  
‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions’ Crowley smirked, which did nothing to relieve the sick feeling of guilt and anger in the pit of Aziraphale’s stomach. She turned, ready to unleash some of her rage on her former lab companion, only to find her walking away from the crowd assembled around the school, hands deeply buried in her leather jacket and singing under her breath.  
  
All you have is your fire  
And a place you need to reach  
Don’t you ever tame your demons  
But always keep them on a leash  
  
The urge to swear was on the tip of Aziraphale’s tongue, but she stopped at the sight of her father out of the corner of her eye, stony-faced and doing his best to calm down Mr Daniels, who was clutching the plastic box that had formerly housed Joseph the corn snake and sobbing. Aziraphale, fighting back tears herself, thought that there was something grotesque in seeing a proper grown-up cry, and made a beeline for the library. Lodging herself between two bookcases, she remained there for the rest of the day.  
  
1\. Speaking in a purely literal sense. Aziraphale considered herself somewhat above Crowley where morals were concerned.  
2\. The kind that is mostly water and looks like it has never seen an orange in its entire existence  
3\. It should be noted that this was only the second cigarette of Crowley’s life, having heard that it was good for calming nerves and impressing girls, both of which she was quite keen on at the present time


	2. Bohemian Rhapsody

October was one of the best months for the bookshop, at least as far as Aziraphale was concerned. With the school term well underway and Christmas some way off, there was no impetus for anyone to step through the door, except to avoid the rain, which was mercifully absent that year. Stuffing another red-lettered envelope into her desk drawer, she pulled out her new (4) copy of Dante’s Inferno and started reading with the best intentions of looking up towards the door at intervals to at least give the illusion that she was hoping for customers.

She was in the fifth circle of hell when the door opened, Raphael sweeping in with his hair plastered to his head. He dripped on the carpet for twenty minutes before moving beyond a few light coughs and some shuffling about and moved the book two inches out of Aziraphale’s hand. Her eyes shot up, looking a lot like a startled owl that is even more startled after discovering it is wearing glasses and there is a tall man wishing to speak to it.  
‘Raphael!’ she untangled her legs from beneath her on the chair and shuffled around the desk, giving her brother an awkward hug.  
‘Zira’ he responded tonelessly, returning her hug with an even more awkward pat on the back. She broke away.  
‘What’s wrong?’  
He sighed, giving her an exasperated look and nodding towards the clock.  
‘You’re late’  
Aziraphale’s head whipped round, eyes widening as she registered the time.  
‘Bother. I’m so sorry, I was caught up in the book and I didn’t notice…’  
‘As per. It’s fine, just get in the car, there’s no time for you to get changed’ he cut her off, giving her the once over and heading towards the door. Aziraphale grabbed her coat and bag from beneath the desk.  
‘Why do I need to change anyway? This is fine’ she protested, casting an eye over her clothing and coming to the conclusion that tartan tights were definitely cool and her brother, as usual, had a stick up his backside. By this point her brain had extracted itself from the story long enough to realise it would be a bad idea to say this to her brother, and they drove into town in relative silence, breaking the quiet only to ask and answer the usual questions about jobs and call their father (5).  
In an unprecedented move, Raphael took them to a bar. Aziraphale stared around her at the glossy black counters, baffled, until she caught sight of Nathaniel leaning against the bar giving them a lazy wave. In an effort to keep up appearances in front of Raphael she toned the run down to a brisk walk, nearly knocking Nathaniel over nonetheless.  
‘Has working in a bookshop given you super-strength or something?’ he asked, pulling away just enough to loosen her grip on him and grinning at her.  
‘Books are very heavy’ she smiled back. ‘When did you get home?’  
‘Ummmmmmmmm, three hours ago? I was banking on you being late so I’d have time to take my suitcases back to the flat, and you didn’t disappoint’ he laughed, patting her head, laughing harder as Aziraphale ducked away, mock-scowling at him. ‘When did this happen, by the way?’ he gestured to her hair as the barman placed a tray of cocktails in front of them.  
‘Straight after I graduated. Dad…’  
‘Thinks it looks unprofessional. As do I’ Raphael cut in. Nathaniel supported his sisters glare, frowning at him.  
‘I like it. Natural hair is the way to go’ He flashed her a quick smile, grabbing the tray of drinks and heading for a nearby booth.  
‘How are the rest of the flock, anyway? Dad adopted any more strays?’ Nathaniel asked  
‘Not currently’ Aziraphale replied, sipping her drink. ‘He’s focussing on saving the lost souls at school these days. And occasionally giving me a lecture about responsibility’  
‘He’s still on about that school thing?’  
Aziraphale nodded.  
‘Wow’  
‘To be fair to him, Zira, you were old enough to know better. You’re too naïve. It’s going to take a lot for him to trust you with anything more serious than a raffle’ Raphael remarked, knocking back a glass of water.  
‘Mmmm’ she stared at the bubbles drifting up the edge of her glass. Nathaniel started asking Raphael about his church work, and after a while Aziraphale stopped attempting to hear to her brothers over the music blaring through the speakers and listened to that instead. Her eyes slid over to the plasma-screen TV on her left.

It was one of the strangest songs she had ever heard, as though two songs had been laid down next to each other and jolted with electricity until they joined together. Half of the lyrics didn’t make sense to her, but the girls in the music video looked familiar… Aziraphale leaned closer to the screen, staring at the one near the back, half singing and half playing guitar.

Will not let you go. (Let me go!)  
Never, never let you go  
Never let me go, oh.  
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.  
Oh, mama mia, mama mia (Mama mia, let me go.)  
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for meeeeeeee.

There was too much going on for Aziraphale to single out her voice on its own, but the cascade of dark hair, the leather jacket, the slight smirk on her face…it had been a decade since Crowley had been expelled from school, and Aziraphale was the first to admit she didn’t keep up with all the social media sites everyone else her age seemed to be hooked in to. After her final year she’d barely kept in touch with her family any more than she could help, when it came to her former classmates she was completely out of the loop.

‘Who’s your favourite?’ Nathaniel’s voice broke her thought process. He followed her gaze, nodding at the screen.  
‘I don’t know any of them, I don’t listen to any of the modern stuff’  
‘I’m a big AJ man myself’  
‘AJ?’  
‘The dark-haired one in the sunglasses’  
‘They’re all wearing sunglasses’  
‘At the back with the guitar’  
‘Oh, her’ Aziraphale went quiet. Minutes passed, Raphael having disappeared to take a phone call and Nathaniel transfixed by the TV. ‘She looks like someone I went to school with’ she murmured thoughtfully, taking a larger sip of her drink.

4\. For Aziraphale ‘new’ usually meant the oldest copy she could get her hands on  
5\. Aziraphale was a master of avoidance. She was the world expert on avoiding-your-father-even-when-you-call-him-once-a-week, and even better at avoiding book sales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are lovely! They feed the giant space-plant who lives in my soul


	3. Take Me to Church

Nathaniel had decided to quit medicine for a year, preferring to spend his days arguing with his father about his career prospects, winding up as many of his siblings as possible, and touring the local bars with Aziraphale. Aziraphale was perfectly happy with this arrangement, thrilled to be in the company of the only one of her siblings who also liked to ignore their fathers grim view of alcohol consumption. Granted, drinking on a Tuesday night probably wasn’t her wisest move now that she had a business to keep at the barest level of functioning without having to sell too many books, but Nathaniel and the internet had promised that this particular bar had an excellent wine selection and a bookshelf downstairs.

It was just the right level of dark, the level that meant you could see where your drinks were while also being dim enough that you didn’t have to look at your companion too closely in case you had finally caved in to someone’s multiple requests for a date and sincerely wished you hadn’t. The music was also just at the right point between being impossible to hear anyone over and enough of a distraction that you didn’t have to listen to said unwanted date’s monologue about how the Beatles changed the face of music. Not that Nathaniel was an unwanted companion, although he did become distracted quite quickly by a red-haired girl behind the bar.

‘She could murder me and not only would I thank her, I’d resurrect myself purely to clean up the mess my death had caused and then let her murder me again’ he declared, after finishing a fourth long island iced tea. Aziraphale drank her wine and watched his flirting attempts with amusement until her own attention was caught by a girl in a wide-brimmed hat, setting up a microphone opposite her. The hat did a good job of hiding her face, but the hair was the same, as was the leather jacket, which Aziraphale suspected was even older than some of her books. She held back her suspicions, however, watching the other girl scan the occupants of the bar, eyes briefly resting on Aziraphale’s and widening for a fraction of a second before flicking back to the microphone. 

Aziraphale felt her stomach jolt.

Despite the darkness of the bar, a candle flickering right beside the girl had managed to sneak a ray of light beneath the brim of the girls hat and caught her irises. 

They were unmistakeably gold. 

Aziraphale didn’t have her brothers medical experience, but her own experience hadn’t thrown her in the path of any other golden-eyed girls since she was at school.

 

She was too caught up in this revelation to notice that Crowley had started singing. Crowley was making a point of not meeting Aziraphale’s eye directly, staring at some distant point across the bar and occasionally casting glances at the other patrons, long eyelashes flickering.

My lover’s got humour  
She’s the giggle at a funeral  
Knows everybody’s disapproval  
Should’ve worshipped her sooner

Without the chaos of a band around her you could her voice: low and husky, but controlled, for the most part. Aziraphale smiled at the way her voice slipped a little on the letter ‘s’, catching it for a little too long so it turned into a hiss.

It's cute, she thought, frowning slightly as the idea crossed her mind. The Crowley she had grown up with had been many things, but she hadn’t been cute past the age of six, preferring to cause mischief and ask too many questions. 

We were born sick  
You heard them say it  
My church offers no absolutes  
She tells me worship in the bedroom  
The only heaven I’ll be sent to  
Is when I’m alone with you  
I was born sick, but I love it  
Command me to be well

By this point Aziraphale was staring directly at Crowley, at a stray curl trailing across one shoulder, at the scar crossing her right eyebrow, a scar she’d forgotten about until that moment, and, despite herself, at her unnaturally long legs, tucked into a pair of boots with heels as impossible as ever.

‘Oh my god it’s AJ’ her brother’s awed voice appeared beside her. Aziraphale was beginning to feel a flicker of irritation, was it possible for her to have any thoughts for longer than 5 seconds without one of her family members interrupting it? But Nathaniel was mercifully quiet, his entire focus on Crowley.

Take me to church  
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies  
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife  
Offer me that deathless death  
Good God, let me give you my life

She looked almost shy when she was singing, her expression more serious than Aziraphale had ever seen her, including the day she was expelled. She pushed the memory away, a bar was somewhere she went to forget her father’s righteous fury, not to recall it. She felt her brothers eyes on her.  
‘What?’ she whispered, turning to look at him. He raised his eyebrows a fraction.  
‘She’s very interested in you’  
‘What?’  
‘AJ. She was staring at you for the whole of the last verse’ he glanced towards Crowley, who was now walking towards the bar. Aziraphale stared after her, feeling slightly stunned. She hadn’t noticed, how had she not noticed?  
‘Her name’s Crowley’ was all she said, picking up her now-empty glass and following her to the bar. Nathaniel walked a little behind, bypassing them both entirely to renew his quest to chat up the pretty redhead. Aziraphale parked herself next to Crowley, both feet on the footrail to even out the height difference a little.

‘Hi’ she all but whispered. She made a show of staring at the various bottles of wine behind the counter, although she was beginning to feel like this was the kind of situation that called for spirits.  
‘Hello angel’ Crowley smiled, but it was the slow kind of smile, the kind with a hundred different meanings that took Aziraphale ages to decipher, few of them good. Crowley turned to her, drink in hand, pressing another glass into Aziraphale’s own hand, the sides wet with condensation. She put it back onto the bar.  
‘First old nicknames, now drinks? What brought this on? Aziraphale inquired. Crowley shrugged.  
‘s’rude if I’m the only one drinking’  
‘I could have ordered my own’  
‘True’ Crowley sipped hers, scanning the bar again.  
‘I saw you on television a while ago. Your band…’  
‘Duchess’ she scowled. ‘Ridiculous name. Hastur and Ligur seem to think it’s still the 70’s. I narrowly avoided the flared trousers. Narrowly’ she held her thumb and index finger in front of Aziraphale’s face, closing the gap between them until it was tiny. She took another gulp of her drink.  
‘You’re good. I’ve never heard you sing like that’  
‘I’m not good, I’m fantastic’ the accompanying smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Thanks’ she pushed herself away from the bar and glanced around in search of a seat, heading towards the doors that led to the smoking area.

‘Do you still smoke then?’  
‘Why are you doing this, angel?’  
‘What?’  
‘Talking to me like this. We’re not friends’  
‘We were’  
‘Were we?’  
‘Weren’t we?’  
‘We had an arrangement of mutual convenience, angel. I didn’t have friends’  
Aziraphale scoffed.  
‘You had plenty of friends, Crowley. Every time I saw you, you were with a different crowd, planning something-or-other’  
‘Something-or-other was as long as those ‘friendships’ ever lasted, angel’  
‘Stop calling me that’  
‘Why? You are. So good. You even look like one now. You’ve got a halo’  
Aziraphale felt as though she ought to feel insulted, but beneath the posturing there was no bite to any of Crowley’s words. If she had really wanted to insult her, she would have done it. And part of her was reluctantly flattered by the halo comment, hand reaching up to touch her curls. Crowley gave a soft laugh.  
‘I knew you were secretly vain, angel’ she teased. ‘What would daddy say?’  
‘Please never call him that again’  
Crowley grinned, her eyes lighting up like she’d been plugged into the mains socket.  
‘Sorry. Couldn’t resist’  
‘No. You were good at tempting people, not so good at resisting temptation’ Aziraphale remarked, draining the remainder of her drink.  
‘Speaking of temptation, a re-fill?’ Crowley slipped the glass from Aziraphale’s hand, meeting her eyes with a glimmer of amusement.  
‘Oh, yes, thank you’  
Aziraphale’s eyes did not drift to Crowley’s backside as she made her way back to the bar. And she was certainly not, in her wine-drunk state, beginning to entertain thoughts of wrapping her legs around Crowley’s waist and kissing her until they were eventually kicked out of the bar. If her father had any idea what kind of thoughts were running through her head, he would have a stroke.  
As if summoned, Crowley re-emerged, holding two considerably larger glasses of wine, another bottle tucked under her arm.  
‘Cheers’ she said, raising her glass momentarily before throwing it down her throat with a grimace, Aziraphale watching with mild horror and rising concern.  
‘Thank you’ she took a sip from her own glass. It was, by all accounts, terrible wine.  
‘So…what are you up to these days?’ Crowley asked lightly, pouring herself another glass of wine.  
‘I have a bookshop’  
Crowley laughed  
‘Of course you do. Are they all bibles or have you branched out a little?’ she leaned against the nearest table, fixing Aziraphale again with those glimmering eyes.   
‘I’m not my father’ Aziraphale snapped back. Crowley raised an eyebrow  
‘M’ only teasing, angel’  
‘Stop calling me that, Crowley! You said it yourself. We’re not friends’

It was as if she’d thrown her drink in Crowley’s face, her smile spluttering out like a damp candle.

‘I always wanted to be your friend, Aziraphale’ she murmured, reaching for the bottle of wine as she turned to leave.

‘Crowley, I-‘

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God knows where I was originally going with this, but I'd better think of something!

**Author's Note:**

> Literally any form of engagement with this fic is very welcome


End file.
